Wheels and Deals
by Veeran
Summary: Harvey Specter is the best closer in New York City and is about to be made senior partner at Pearson Hardman. Five years ago, he was in an accident that left him permanently disabled. His self-confidence took a huge blow and while he has recovered some of his cockiness, the fact that he isn't exactly the man he used to be continues to nag him. Rated M mainly for explicit language.
1. Chapter 1

"Donna, cancel all my appointments for tomorrow. We're hiring an associate."

Donna looked up from her computer. _Did I hear correctly?_ She got up and followed Harvey into his office.

"Wait, what did you just say?"

"You heard me." Harvey had her back to her and was going through some papers.

"Oh my God, does that mean…?"

Harvey turned around to face her. He was grinning broadly. "Yup. I'm the new senior partner. I'm _finally_ getting a seat at the table."

"Well…technically, you're getting some space at the table. You still have to bring your own seat." Harvey's grin froze. _Oh, fuck, did I really just say that to him?_ Donna felt like slapping herself. She had crossed a line. No, she had crossed _the_ line. The one line that she had never crossed in all those years that she had worked for Harvey. Sure, they bantered every day; she made fun of his wide ties and gelled hair-do, while he mocked her taste in movies. Or a thousand other things. But never before had she made a reference to his disability. And now she had and wished she could simply unsay it. It hadn't even been a particularly witty remark. But just as she opened her mouth to apologize Harvey simply said, "True dat." Just like that. _Phew._ Donna smiled at him.

"Congratulations, Harvey. You really deserve it."

"Couldn't have done it without you." Harvey's smile was back. "But, yeah, you're right. I do deserve it."

"When will it be made official?"

"At the partners' meeting on Monday."

"So can't this associate hiring business wait until next week?"

"If I had my way, this associate hiring business would be postponed until hell freezes over." He sighed and looked Donna in the eyes. "Jessica thinks I _would_ try to postpone it until hell freezes over if I hire an associate _after_ I've been made senior partner, so she's making me hire one before."

Donna laughed. "Smart woman."

Harvey cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah, real smart. And if my secretary was any smarter she would have reminded me to find a way to con Louis into changing that damn section of the bylaws."

Donna stuck out her tongue at him. "That's not part of my job. What is part of my job is to get you a list of all the eligible candidates for the position."

Harvey sighed. "Interviewing a bunch of arrogant Harvard Law graduates is so _not_ gonna be fun."

"Well, since Pearson Hardman only hires from Harvard Law…arrogant Harvard Law graduates it will be. List will be ready in an hour."

Now Harvey stuck out his tongue at her. Donna turned around and left his office.

Harvey knew that Donna had wanted to apologize for that remark, and a part of him was actually angry at her for feeling that she needed to apologize. But then again it was his own fault that she felt that way since he had never encouraged any jokes like that. In fact, they had never broached the topic again after that one conversation they'd had a couple of weeks after Donna had started working for him. A conversation that he had initiated because he assumed that as his secretary it was her right – and maybe even her duty – to know certain things. A conversation that he had ended by saying "Anyway, I don't really like to talk about it." And Donna, being the professional that she was, had always respected that. But recently he had increasingly felt that their avoiding this topic completely was actually pretty awkward. Especially since Donna was the closest thing he had to a friend.


	2. Chapter 2

Donna found it hard to concentrate on compiling the list of candidates for the associate position. Through the glass walls she could see Harvey sitting behind his desk, typing away on his laptop. Her thoughts wandered back to the time when she had first met Harvey.

 _Five years earlier_

Donna wasn't unhappy at her job at Smith McAllister Krauss, but when she heard that Harvey Specter was looking for a secretary she was intrigued. After all, he was the only associate at another top New York law firm whose name had come up in water cooler conversations at her firm. Most people at SMK didn't even have a clue what the associates at their own firm were called, so it was very rare that everybody seemed to have heard about that one associate at Pearson Hardman. Everybody also seemed to have a different story about why Harvey had been absent from the New York law scene for six months. Some reckoned cancer, others thought depression. Still others had heard rumors about some accident, while a few even believed he had been hired out to the FBI for some secret detail. The only thing that everybody ruled out was substance abuse because that would most likely have got him disbarred and they would most likely have heard about _that_. Whatever it was, Donna didn't care. All that mattered was that an opportunity to finally meet the guy had suddenly presented itself.

She showed up early for her interview and the receptionist offered her a seat in the waiting area. She took in the environment. Donna had never been to the offices of Pearson Hardman before and she immediately liked the setting with all the glass offices and conference rooms. After a short while, the receptionist came back. "Mr. Specter is now ready to see you, Ms. Paulsen. Please come along this way." After a short walk along the corridor, they stopped in front of an office with a glass front wall in the middle of the corridor. The receptionist knocked on the open door and announced: "Mr. Specter, Ms. Paulsen is here." Harvey pushed himself away from the desk with both hands and just when Donna expected him to get up and walk towards her, he didn't. Instead, she saw him placing his hands on the push rims of a black wheelchair. With two powerful pushes he reached her and offered her his hand. "Ms. Paulsen, good to meet you. Please, have a seat." He gestured towards the two chairs that were placed in front of his desk and moved back behind his desk.

"So, Ms. Paulsen, why don't you tell me what attracted you to this position."

"To be honest, I'm not sure that I am attracted to the position."

"Excuse me? Then why are you here?"

"Well, I've been hearing your name for quite some time now at the water cooler and I simply saw this interview as a chance to finally figure out for myself what all the fuss is about."

Harvey laughed. "Seriously?"

Donna smiled. "Yes."

"So, what do they say about me at the water cooler?"

"Well, there are those that think you're a legal prodigy. Then there are those that think you're the most arrogant asshole they've ever met. And then there's a third group who think that you're a legal prodigy _and_ the most arrogant asshole they've ever met. I estimate that this last group makes up about 83 per cent of the people who talk about you at the water cooler. Of course, I can only comment with confidence on the water cooler conversations at Smith McAllister Krauss."

"Yeah, it would be scientifically questionable to speculate about the water cooler conversations at other law firms." Harvey grinned. "But if you were to eavesdrop on the water cooler conversations at this firm, I'm sure you'd arrive at a similar percentage."

Donna smiled. He clearly had a sense of humor; and for some reason this fact had never come up in any of the conversations about him. She liked him.

"Well, Ms. Paulsen, shall we get back to the actual interview or shall we stop here?"

"I will take the position."

"Excuse me? I haven't even offered it to you! I don't know anything about you."

"Yes, you do. You've seen my résumé. And you've probably realized by now that I'm not like other secretaries. Which is _exactly_ what you need, because you're not like other associates." Donna crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. Harvey shook his head, but then grinned broadly.

"You know what, Ms. Paulsen? You're hired."

They spent about half an hour negotiating the terms of her contract and agreed on a starting date before they said their good-byes. Donna left the building and got some coffee from a coffee-cart guy on the corner and replayed the interview in her mind. She prided herself in her almost Sherlock-like ability to note every minute detail about a person. When asked how she was able to do this, she'd simply quip, 'I'm Donna.' While sipping her coffee, she went through the list of things she had noticed about Harvey Specter and his office.

Based on his great sense of style, she deduced that appearance was important to him. He hadn't worn the jacket of his suit during the interview, which made it difficult to guess the designer, but both his shirt and vest had clearly been tailored to fit. He didn't look like the kind of guy who rolled up his sleeves or loosened his tie a lot at work. His aftershave was subtle but masculine. His haircut looked like it cost more than the coffee-cart guy usually made in a month. For her liking he used way too much product in his hair. His desk had been free of clutter, with only the most important items and gadgets placed on it. He obviously liked basketball and music – but one didn't need to be Donna to be able to deduce this.

Now, the wheelchair. Donna assumed that the wheelchair was the key to answering the question of his mysterious disappearance during the last six months. She pondered the most likely scenarios. Maybe he had been involved in some kind of accident. Maybe he had acquired some disease. Maybe the damage to his body was temporary and only required the use of a wheelchair while he was recuperating. But since Harvey paid so much attention to his appearance, she believed that he would refrain from showing up at work in a wheelchair unless he absolutely had no other choice. And that was more likely to be the case if the damage that had been done to his body was irreversible.


	3. Chapter 3

"Donna!"

Donna literally jumped out of her seat at the sound of Harvey's voice. He was only inches away from her and had shouted directly in her ear.

"Harvey, what the hell? Do you really need to scare me like that?"

"Hey, I've been trying to get your attention for ten minutes!"

Donna rolled her eyes at him. "Ten minutes, huh? You don't have that much patience."

"Maybe it was five minutes. Or two. Okay, it was only thirty seconds. Doesn't matter. Where _were_ you with your thoughts?"

"I was thinking whether I agree with Pantone's choice of color of the year."

Harvey raised an eyebrow. "Aha. And?"

"What?"

"Do you like their choice?"

"No."

"Glad we talked about it. Do you have my list?"

"What list?"

Harvey sighed. "Hello? The list of candidates for the associate position. The associate that I need to hire because I'm being made senior partner a.k.a. getting a seat, er, correction, some space for my wheelchair at the big table. That ring a bell?"

Donna looked at him, surprised to hear him repeat her earlier remark. "Give me ten more minutes."

"Alright." He turned the chair around and rolled back into his office. Donna watched him take off his suit jacket and place it over the back of one of the chairs in front of his desk. He then moved over to one of his armchairs and lined the wheelchair up at an angle. He placed his hands on the push rims and scooted forward. He then lifted each leg off of the footplate with his hands and then put his right fist on the seat of the armchair. With his left hand he grabbed onto the push rim and pushed himself up and over to the armchair. Donna had seen him do this maneuver hundreds of times. Most times it went smoothly like this; sometimes it didn't, and twice she'd even seen him fall. Harvey caught her eye and gave her a look that said 'what are you waiting for? Finish that list!' Donna quickly focused on her monitor and went back to compiling said list.

It was during moments like this that Harvey hated the fact that all of the offices at Pearson Hardman had a glass front wall the most. Sure, it looked pretty stylish but the downside was that anyone could be privy to anything that was going on in any office at any damn time. Because of the glass wall, Donna had been able to witness him fall during a transfer twice. He hated losing control; but losing control while somebody was watching was a hundred times worse, even if that somebody was Donna. As if on cue, he was right now being reminded that he no longer had control over fifty per cent of his body. His left leg was shaking violently and Harvey pressed both his hands on his left thigh to stop the spasms. He looked up to see Donna walking into his office. She clearly wanted to say something but the look Harvey gave her made her think better of it.

"The list is ready." She held out a piece of paper. He took it and kept his left hand pressed on his thigh while he scanned the list of names.

"Fuck me. Twenty people? That's gonna be one hell of a day tomorrow." He looked up at Donna. "Have you booked a room at the Chilton?"

"Yes. I've reserved one from 9 am to 8 pm. One hour lunch break from 1 to 2, so you'll have 30 minutes per candidate."

"What? I don't wanna spend 30 minutes talking to each of these Harvard douches!"

"If you finish an interview early, you can put in a round of online poker." Donna grinned at Harvey. The thought of lots of poker rounds – he had every intention of finishing each interview after ten minutes tops – cheered him up considerably. Donna had turned to leave when Harvey's phone started buzzing inside of his jacket.

Harvey groaned. _Great fucking timing._ Donna turned to look at him questioningly. He gave her a short nod and she went to retrieve the phone and brought it over to him. Harvey checked the caller ID. "What the fuck?" He answered the call.

"Robert, what can I do for you?" He rolled his eyes at Donna. Donna gave him a sympathetic smile and left his office. Harvey had lost count of the number of calls he had received from Robert Stensland since he had taken over as CEO of McKernon Motors. Stensland's calls usually started with "Harvey, I've been thinking…" and then Harvey usually had to spend at least 30 minutes to convince him that whatever he had been thinking was in fact the worst idea any CEO of any company had ever had.

"Robert…yeah, I hear you…Yes. Yes, that might be possible, but I need to check the bylaws again for that…Robert, I'm not on my laptop right now…I told you I need to check…Robert! Give me 5 minutes, okay? I'll check and call you back in 5 minutes." He hung up.

"Jesus!" he said to himself and had to refrain himself from throwing the Blackberry across the room.

"I'm not sure He would be able to help you with Robert Stensland." Jessica Pearson was standing in front of him, arms crossed. She was a tall woman and in heels she was as tall as him – or as tall as he was when he was standing up. Now, of course, she towered over him most of the time. But then again apart from little kids now everyone towered over him.

"Jessica. What can I do for you?"

"You can tell me how the preparations for the interviews tomorrow are going."

"You got to be kidding me! You checking on me?"

"Of course I am. In fact, I'm still debating whether I need to show up at your apartment tomorrow morning to make sure you actually go to the Chilton."

Harvey gave her a sour look and said in a fake polite voice: "I assure you there's no need to babysit me. I will interview 20 recent Harvard Law graduates tomorrow and hire one of them as my new personal associate. With _pleasure_."

Jessica cocked an eyebrow. "I will ask Ray to give me a call once he's dropped you off at the Chilton tomorrow." She turned around and walked out of the office. Harvey stuck out his tongue at her behind her back. Without turning around Jessica said "I saw that." Through the intercom, he heard a cynical "Ouch!"

"Shut up, Donna," he said.

Smiling, Jessica walked along the corridor back to her office. Even though she often found his cockiness a nuisance, she was secretly happy that some of the old Harvey had come back and they bantered almost as much as they used to. Seeing him in a wheelchair was still hard for her, and in a way she was jealous of Donna who didn't know him any other way. But Jessica also knew that Donna was the main reason that the old Harvey was slowly but surely resurfacing. Harvey had really come a long way since he had first come back to work after getting hurt.

 _Five years earlier_

Jessica arrived at work at about 7:30 am, even though she didn't expect Harvey to get in before 8:30. She had to refrain from waiting at the elevators for Harvey to arrive. Jessica had only informed the senior partners that today would be Harvey's first day back; everyone else was clueless – including Louis Litt, who stormed into her office at 8:20 am.

"Jessica, I need to talk to you."

"Louis, whatever it is, it will have to wait," she said firmly. Louis's brow furrowed.

"No, Jessica, you're not going to blow me off now. I've been thinking over the weekend and I really think we should−"

"Louis, I am not going to talk to you right now!"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard the woman, Louis."

Louis spun around at the sound of the familiar voice. "Harvey…I…I had no idea you'd be back today. It's…it's really good to see you." Louis walked over to Harvey and offered him his hand. Harvey lifted his right hand off of the push rim and shook hands with Louis.

"Louis, there are a couple of things I need to go through with Harvey. Please excuse us."

"Of course. Welcome back, Harvey."

"Thanks, Louis."

Louis walked out of Jessica's office and closed the door behind him. Harvey rolled closer to Jessica's desk and moved one of the chairs in front of it out of the way to make space for his wheelchair. Jessica scanned Harvey from top to bottom. He wore a dark grey suit with a subtle pinstripe, a white shirt and a grey tie with silver diagonal stripes tied in a Windsor knot. As usual with Harvey, the suit fit him perfectly. The same was true for his wheelchair, which had been customized to fit Harvey's body and suit his needs. Harvey had opted for a lightweight rigid-frame chair in black, the least obtrusive color. The chair's backrest was very low and it didn't have any handlebars. Jessica had found this latter fact curious when she had first seen Harvey's chair and she had asked Harvey about it. His simple answer had been 'I don't like to be pushed around.' Now, Jessica smiled at Harvey.

"You know what, that chair actually does complement your style." Jessica expected him to respond with some quip like 'yeah, it's the newest men's wear trend for fall' or similar, but Harvey just gave her a pained smile. It was clearly too early for banter on that topic. But there were some things that they had to sort out and unfortunately most of these were related to Harvey's new situation.

"Okay, Harvey, there are a couple of things we need to discuss. First, I wanted to let you know that I've arranged for you to move into one of the corner offices. There's still some paint work being done right now but it should be ready by the end of the week." Jessica saw Harvey's questioning look. "I know the corner offices are usually reserved for partners but they're bigger and your current office looks pretty cramped to me."

Harvey just stared at her.

"In addition, I've had an ad for a secretary put out. You'll be interviewing candidates tomorrow."

Harvey was now staring at the floor in front of him, a thousand thoughts running through his mind. Six months ago he would have gladly accepted a corner office and a secretary. He would have shot down any complaints that would have been voiced by Louis with a cocky remark such as 'I'm not like other associates.' But now things were different. Now nobody – not even Louis – was likely to complain. Now everybody would deem it acceptable that he got a fancy office and a secretary; not because he was the best associate the firm had ever had but because he was a _crippled_ associate. Harvey suddenly felt very hot and he had to fight the urge to rip his tie off his neck. He wanted to yell at Jessica but he knew that she was being sensible; there was hardly enough space in his office to turn around properly in a wheelchair.

Jessica watched Harvey for a while. He was leaning forward with his elbows placed on his knees and he was kneading his hands. She could sense the mixture of anger and frustration that he wanted to voice but that he was fighting it because he knew that she was right.

"Harvey," she said quietly.

He looked up at her.

"You know, the office and the secretary are perks that you'll get anyway when you make partner."

"Yeah. I know." Harvey leaned back in his chair.

"There's one other thing: I need you to meet with Gerald Tate as soon as possible. He's been threatening to look for legal representation elsewhere and I cannot have that happen. You need to work your magic and convince him to stay on."

Harvey's mood lightened. This was a task that was made for him; he was a closer, after all. Gerald Tate wasn't happy with his law firm? He would find a way to make him happy again. Wooing clients was his specialty; even though sometimes his wooing was actually more like strong-arming. "Consider it done."

"I want to hear from you a.s.a.p. once you've met with him."

Harvey nodded. They looked at each other for a long moment. Jessica was debating whether to say something else but Harvey's look clearly said 'Please don't.'

"Okay. Let's get to work," she finally said.

Harvey nodded again and turned his chair around.

"Harvey?"

He turned around to face Jessica again.

"It's good to have you back. Now go deal with that Tate asshole."

"Aye, ma'am."

Jessica raised an eyebrow and almost gave a retort but then she just smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you to everyone who favorited and/or took the time to review the story! I'm sorry for taking ages to update this; I've already got quite a few chapters started but they still need some polishing. I've decided to upload this fairly short chapter in which we finally get to meet Mike. (And, yes, I've sneakily borrowed some of the actual dialogue from the show - but some lines are just too good :)

* * *

Harvey eyed the nervous wreck of a Harvard Law graduate currently sitting in front of him. He checked his watch. 11:04. He still had to endure at least ten minutes with this guy who had graduated 8th in his class last year.

"...and I uh I really en- enjoyed Prof. uh Ge-Gerard's class because he's uh he's really..."

Harvey took a deep breath. _Someone shoot me, someone please shoot me now._ He started drumming against the wheel of his chair with his thumb. The candidate sensed that Harvey was getting increasingly impatient and that only made him more nervous and his stammering became even more pronounced. Finally, Harvey interrupted him.

"Okay, very well, Mr. Carson. Why don't you tell me why you'd like to work for me?" Of course, all candidates had prepared for this question and so far every one of them had responded by telling Harvey that they thought that they would benefit "so much" from working with the best closer in New York City. Harvey believed that Jake, middle name nervous wreck, Carson would be no exception, but then he was immediately alerted when Carson said: "I uh I think that you're uh that you're an uh inspiration."

Harvey raised an eyebrow. _Wait, give the kid a chance to save this._

"Really? And why is that?" he asked.

Carson was shifting nervously in his seat. "Um, well, because of uh the fact that uh you're uh disabled."

Harvey rolled his eyes. _You blew it, kiddo._ A part of him wanted to end the interview right there but instead he decided to teach the kid a lesson.

"Mr. Carson, before you came here this morning I assume you got out of bed?" Carson looked at Harvey, confused, but then nodded. "Really? Me too. And what did you do then? Take a shower? Get dressed? Have breakfast and read the paper? Travel downtown? Well, guess what: Me too. Now, is any of this a particularly remarkable feat? Huh?" Carson shook his head. "No, of course it isn't! Now, if you had said that I'm inspirational because I'm an awesome attorney and I close deals like no other – okay. I would have agreed with you. But calling me an inspiration just for being disabled? That's bullshit with a capital B! Now, please excuse me."

Poor Carson's face now looked like a tomato and he literally fled out of the room, stumbling past the desk Donna was sitting at. The candidates waiting outside stared after him in terror. What on earth had Harvey Specter _done_ to that guy? Donna got up from the desk and walked into the interview room. Harvey was sitting with his arms crossed over his chest and was looking out of the window.

"Now, what happened there?" she asked.

"That douchebag called me an inspiration," Harvey said without turning around.

"Hm, I thought you'd condone if a Harvard Law graduate is inspired by the best closer that the city's ever seen?"

Harvey put his hands on the push rims and turned around to face Donna. "He called me an inspiration for being _disabled_ ," he added, uttering the final word with as much disdain as he could.

"Oh." Donna sat down in one of the armchairs to be on the same level with Harvey. "But he's able-bodied, so why would he be inspired by your being disabled?"

"Exactly!"

"And even if he _was_ disabled…shouldn't he be rather inspired by someone other than…" She paused for effect. "…an arrogant self-absorbed blowhard who thinks he's the smartest person in the room?"

Harvey looked at her. Donna gave him a wink. A smile started to play on his lips, which quickly developed into the trademark Specter grin. As usual, Donna had succeeded in cheering him up.

"Ready for the next candidate?" Donna asked.

"You think there are still some left?"

"There probably all scared shitless now but each of them would probably get your name tattooed on their butts if that would get them the job. So, yeah, I think they've stayed."

"Yeah, but now we're really gonna have to streamline this. Give each guy a hard time. Before you send them back give me a wink if they said something clever. We need to find another arrogant self-absorbed blowhard. Cool?"

"Cool."

"Relax. I'm not gonna call the cops. Have a seat." Harvey motioned to the chairs in front of the desk. He eyed the kid in the bad suit who had just dropped a briefcase full of dope into his lap. _This is gonna be good._

"So, I assume your name isn't actually Rick Sorkin, right?" Harvey asked.

The kid shook his head. "No. My name is Mike Ross. I'm- I'm a bike messenger."

"Bike messenger, huh?"

"Yeah. Listen, Mr. Specter, I know your time is valuable and I really appreciate you not calling the cops but–"

"Wait, I'm not gonna let you off so fast. I wanna hear the story." Mike raised his eyebrows. Harvey smiled at him. "See, I've spent the whole morning interviewing Harvard Law graduates with rods up their asses for the position as my associate. And then you burst in and drop a suitcase full of dope into my lap. And as much as I'd like to pretend that this is something that happens every day, it's not. So, how does a bike messenger end up with a shitload of dope in the Chilton hotel?"

Mike spent a moment studying the older man sitting opposite of him. On the one hand, he looked like a typical alpha male dressed in a power suit who was oozing confidence; over the years, Mike had seen hundreds of guys like him in the city. But there was something else; a certain air of vulnerability, well-hidden behind all the hotshot lawyer swagger. Mike was really intrigued by Harvey Specter. Plus, he seemed to have a sense of humor, which he liked, and so he started to tell him the story.


	5. Chapter 5

Apologies for taking so long to update this story. To make up for it, this chapter is extra long :) It picks up immediately where the previous chapter ended. A note of warning: I know nothing about the law apart from what I've seen on TV shows. I don't know whether the case makes any sense. The medical stuff, however, is researched.

* * *

Harvey stared incredulously at Mike. "You're seriously telling me that you've passed the bar despite never going to law school?"

"Yep."

Harvey shook his head. "That's incredible, it really is, but I can't hire someone who's not really a lawyer."

Mike looked at him. "Because that'd be against the law."

"Exactly."

"But, and please correct me if I'm wrong, isn't practicing law very often about finding a loophole?"

"It is, but there's no loophole here: you didn't go to law school, therefore you don't have a law degree, therefore I can't hire you."

"But as I said: I've passed the bar."

"You might have passed the bar but you weren't eligible to take that exam in the first place."

Mike considered this for a moment. "You're right. If the prerequisite for taking the bar exam is having graduated from law school, I wasn't eligible. But I did and I passed, which shows that I have the required knowledge…without ever going to law school. And isn't the knowledge what really counts?"

Harvey looked at Mike. _Boy, that kid is good_. He lifted himself up in the wheelchair for a moment and thought about it. "So that's the loophole, huh?"

Mike grinned. "I believe it is."

"Still, I can only hire you as my associate if you actually graduated from Harvard. Which means: you'll have to be able to pull off being a graduate of Harvard Law."

"I think I can do that."

"And I think you had better make sure that you can do that. You'll go to Harvard and you find out anything there is to know about Harvard Law. And when you're done, I'll need to be able to wake you up at 3 am and quiz you about the professors, the courses, the best pizza joints, yada yada yada, you understand?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Okay. I expect you in the office a week on Monday."

 _A week later_

"Jessica wants to see you," Donna told Harvey when he approached her cubicle.

"What about?"

"She didn't say. But she had this evil grin on her face, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I've seen that one before."

Harvey turned the chair around and pushed towards Jessica's office.

"You wanted to see me?"

Jessica looked up from the file she had been reading.

"Yes. Your associate is starting today, right?"

"Yeah."

"Great. I've got the perfect case for you to show him the ropes." She grinned.

"Whoa, if you're grinning like that, it can't be anything good. Oh God, please don't tell me it's pro bono."

"It's not exactly pro bono. It's about a client's son."

"Who's the client?"

"Michael Rosenberg."

Harvey whistled. "That's a big shot. But isn't his son still a kid? What kind of trouble did he get into?"

"Aaron Rosenberg is 23. And he didn't get into any trouble, he was severely injured in an accident a year ago."

Harvey rolled his eyes. "Come on, Jessica, you know I'm not an expert when it comes to damages."

"I know. And that's what I told Michael. But he explicitly requested you and since he's one of our biggest clients, he'll get you."

"Why would he request me?"

"Take a look." Jessica handed him the file. Harvey flipped through it. It contained mainly the medical file of Aaron Rosenberg, complete with X-ray images. A quick glance at the images was enough for Harvey to know what he was dealing with.

"You got to be kidding me, Jessica."

"Harvey, I'm not discussing this with you. You're going to take the case or you can say goodbye to that senior partnership for now."

"You're blackmailing me?"

"I'm telling you what to and what the consequences will be if you don't do what I'm telling you to do."

"That's the definition of blackmail!"

"3 p.m. today, Harvey. You're meeting with Aaron Rosenberg. And take your new puppy along. And don't you dare send him on his own. Because I will find out about it."

"Whatever," Harvey muttered as he turned the chair around. He pushed aggressively along the corridor and when he took a corner he collided with Rachel Zane.

"Fuck!" Both exclaimed at the same time. Rachel bent down to rub her left shin.

"I'm so sorry, Rachel! Did I hurt you?"

"It's fine," Rachel said unconvincingly.

"It's not fine, that's," he pointed at her shin, "gonna turn into a spectacular bruise."

"I'll live."

"Still, you might wanna put some ice on that."

"No time. I'm supposed to show your new associate around, remember?"

"Uh, sure. Again, I'm really sorry for bumping into you, Rachel."

"Don't worry about it." She walked past Harvey to the elevators.

"If Louis finds out about this, he'll propose setting up speed traps in the corridor," Donna said when Harvey arrived at her cubicle.

"How come you know about that already?"

"Norma," Donna grinned.

Harvey rolled his eyes. "Of course. Arrange to have a bouquet of Rachel's favorite flowers be sent to her desk, alright?"

"Sure."

He rolled into his office. Donna got up from her desk and followed him.

"What are you so angry about, anyway?"

"Jessica saddled me with a stupid case she agreed to take on because the client's father is Michael Rosenberg."

"What kind of a case?"

"Negotiating damages. The Rosenberg kid managed to fall off his mountain bike and got himself an SCI and now he's suing the bike manufacturer for damages because he claims the accident was caused by a fault with the bike that they knew about but kept secret."

"Sounds like a winner to me."

"If I can prove that there was a fault and the manufacturer really knew about it, yes. But maybe that kid just fell off the damn bike and the whole thing turns out to be a huge waste of time."

"And that's what's making you so angry?"

"No, what is making me so angry that instead of giving the case to Lauren Jacobsen, who's done a gazillion damages cases, she gives it to me. And do you know why? Because Michael Rosenberg 'requested me.' And it's not hard to imagine why he requested me, is it?"

"Because you're the best closer in New York City."

Harvey scoffed. "Yeah, the best damn _paralyzed_ closer in New York City."

"Harvey, is it really so bad that Mr. Rosenberg wants an attorney who can relate to his son's situation to represent him?"

"What makes you think that I can relate to his son's situation?"

"Um-"

There was a knock on the door.

"Mr. Specter?" Mike Ross was standing there, wearing a slightly wrinkled suit and the skinniest tie Harvey had ever seen.

"Mike Ross." Harvey pushed away from the desk and rolled towards Mike to shake his hand. "Welcome to Pearson Hardman. My secretary, Donna Paulsen." Mike and Donna likewise shook hands. "Donna, I'm going to brief Mike on the case. Can you call Aaron Rosenberg to confirm that we're coming this afternoon?" Donna nodded and left Harvey's office.

"Okay, Mike, before we get to the case that Jessica Pearson kindly dumped into my lap…how was your trip?"

"Great. Took a tour of Harvard Law. Hey, nice class picture by the way, I really dig your hairstyle." Mike grinned. "Anyway, I know now everything I need to know about the place. Nobody will ever guess that I didn't actually study there."

"HE DIDN'T GO TO HARVARD?" Donna's voice came out of the intercom.

"WHY IS THE INTERCOM ON?" Mike almost jumped out of his seat.

"Because it's always on. Donna, that's confidential info," Harvey said calmly.

"Roger that."

"Mike, relax. I trust Donna one hundred per cent."

"Yeah? Great. I don't!"

"You will, once you get to know her." Harvey put his hands on his push-rims and pushed himself around in circles; it was his way of pacing. "Okay, Aaron Rosenberg. Spoilt rich kid, son of one of our biggest clients. He's suing Matrixx Bikes for damages because he fell off one of their bikes, severely injuring himself. Medical details are contained in this file." He handed Mike the folder.

"Was there something wrong with his bike?"

"That's what he claims. We'll find out more when we meet with him later today."

Mike browsed through the file. "Whoa, that's a lot of medical lingo…SCI…C7…ASIA A…what does all that mean?"

"Spinal cord injury at the C7 level, that's short for the seventh cervical vertebra, no voluntary movement or sensation below that level. In other words, he's paralyzed from round about the shoulders down."

"Shit." Mike looked at Harvey. "How do you know all that?"

"What do you think?"

"Um, right." Mike paused to think. "Did you say it was a Matrixx bike?"

"Yeah. Do you know them?"

"Well, I've never ridden one of their bikes…kinda outta my price range, you know? They've specialized in making mountain bikes and even their most basic models cost about a 1,000 dollars. All of their bikes are manufactured in the US and they pride themselves in their quality control."

"Rosenberg claims that they knew about a fault with this particular bike and kept it secret."

"Doesn't sound like their strategy. I know that they recalled a bike a couple of years back, so why would they do something like that now?"

"Dunno. Let's wait and see what the Rosenberg kid has to say."

Donna's voice came through the intercom. "Harvey, Ray's waiting downstairs with the car."

"Thanks, Donna. Alright, Mike, let's go meet our client. What?" he asked when he saw Mike's face.

"You got a chauffeur?"

"Sure. Had him for eight years, he's a great guy. Let's go."

When they got outside, Harvey pointed out Ray, who was leaning against a spotless black Lexus limousine. "There he is."

When Ray spotted Harvey, he moved to open the back passenger side door for him. Harvey pushed towards the car and angled the chair in preparation for his transfer into the car. He noticed that Mike was still standing indecisively on the sidewalk.

"You wanna walk all the way to Long Island?" Harvey asked.

"What? No."

"Well, get in then."

"Right." Mike walked around the car and got in the back. He watched Harvey do the transfer into the seat next to him: first, he lifted his legs off the footrest and then scooted forward. He then grabbed onto the back of the front passenger seat and pulled himself onto the seat. Finally, he lifted his legs one by one into the car. When he was done, Ray took the chair apart and stored it in the trunk. Ray was the only person Harvey trusted with handling his wheelchair. He normally didn't like it to be out of his reach, but whenever someone rode in the back seat with him, it had to go into trunk. As Harvey got settled into the seat, he noticed Mike looking at him. When Harvey caught Mike's eye, Mike quickly looked down at the file in his lap. "Sorry, didn't mean to be stare. I was just curious how you'd tackle it."

"It's okay to be curious," Harvey responded. He paused, then added, "Took me a while to perfect my technique." He waited for Mike to comment or ask a question and when he didn't he said: "Ray, can you put some music on?"

"Sure," Ray answered, "Got a new album I wanted to hear your opinion on." Soon mellow jazz filled the car. Harvey leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. His brow furrowed and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You okay?" Mike asked.

"Yeah," Harvey said, "Headache. It'll pass." At least that was what he hoped; the last thing he needed right now was a full-blown migraine episode.

Forty minutes later they pulled up in front of a typical Long Island mansion.

"Holy shit," Mike said.

"Holy shit, indeed," Harvey agreed. "Jewelry surely is a lucrative business." Ray opened Harvey's door and positioned the wheelchair next to the seat. Harvey transferred into the chair and started pushing towards the house; an endeavor that was being made unnecessarily difficult by the typical Long Island mansion style gravel that covered the whole area.

"Oh, fuck me," he muttered.

There were a couple of wide steps leading up the mansion's entrance, but luckily a ramp had been added. Harvey quickly pushed up the ramp and rang the doorbell. A butler opened the door.

"Harvey Specter and Mike Ross of Pearson Hardman. We're here to see Mr. Rosenberg junior."

"Please come in. I'll tell Mr. Rosenberg you're here."

The butler disappeared and few moments later they heard a whirring noise that turned out to come from a power wheelchair. Harvey's brow furrowed, while Mike looked unfazed. Aaron Rosenberg steered his chair past his visitors and simply said without any greeting: "Follow me." Harvey and Mike shared a look before they set off to follow Rosenberg into what appeared to be an office with a spectacular view of the vast garden. Rosenberg drove the chair behind the desk and turned it around to face his visitors. He didn't say a word but simply pointed out the two chairs in front of the desk with his chin.

Harvey pulled one of the chairs away to make room for his wheelchair, while Mike sat down in the other chair. Aaron Rosenberg appeared to be tall, but he was dwarfed by the power chair he was strapped into; a power chair that Harvey knew he didn't really need.

"Mr. Rosenberg, I'm Harvey Specter, this is my associate Mike Ross. Your father tells us that you intend to sue Matrixx Bikes for damages."

"That's correct."

"On what grounds?"

"They're responsible for _this_ ," he said, lifting both arms off the armrests, and for a moment Harvey thought that Rosenberg would start to cry.

"Why exactly do you think they're responsible for the accident in which you sustained a spinal cord injury, Mr. Rosenberg?" Harvey asked.

"Because I wouldn't have crashed if that fucking handlebar hadn't snapped!"

"Was anyone with you when that happened?"

"No. I was on my own."

"Who found you after the accident?"

"Couple of other mountain bikers, about an hour later."

"So there's no one who can corroborate that the broken handlebar was the cause of your crash?"

"Look, that company's had problems with their bikes before, they recalled their X500 model in 2002!"

"I'm not saying that you're lying about the handlebar, Mr. Rosenberg. But, the thing is, it'll be hard to prove that without evidence."

"Isn't the bike evidence enough?"

"I'm afraid, no. The manufacturer could claim that the handlebar snapped because of the crash. We'd be sure to lose that lawsuit."

Rosenberg sighed.

"Tell you what. We'll check whether there are any other people who got hurt because of snapped handlebars on that particular bike. Maybe there are and they didn't sue because, like you, they had no witnesses. Or maybe they did sue, but they settled with Matrixx Bikes."

Rosenberg nodded. "Okay."

"Do you mind if I ask a personal question?" Harvey asked.

"Go ahead."

"The power chair. What's that all about?"

"Excuse me?"

"Your father provided us with a copy of your medical file. You're a C7 tetraplegic, you're 23 years old, you would do fine in a manual chair. Hell, you could even take up hand-biking or wheelchair rugby or whatever, why would you cripple yourself even more by using a power chair?"

"You don't know shit about me! You don't know what it's like when you don't have full use of your arms or hands and can't move your fingers at all!"

"True. I don't. But what I do know is that no matter their injury level everyone who's suffered an SCI usually tries to regain as much independence as possible. And you're doing the exact fucking opposite."

"Why do you even care?"

"I don't. I'm just curious." Harvey put his hands on his push rims and pushed backwards. "We'll be in touch," he said, turned around and left the room. Mike caught up with him in the hall.

"What was that about?" he asked Harvey.

"Ah, I dunno. It just bugged me, I guess. But ultimately it's none of my business."

"Wheelchair rugby? That's a thing?" Mike asked.

Harvey laughed. "Yeah, it is. Pretty brutal, actually."

"Have you tried it?"

"Nah, I'm sticking to basketball. Alright, let's get back to the city."

When they arrived back at the office, Donna told Harvey that Jessica wanted to see him. He found Jessica sitting on the couch in her office, sipping from a glass of scotch. When he knocked, she looked up and patted the cushion next to her. "Harvey. Come sit." Harvey moved to the couch and transferred onto it. He winced slightly, which didn't go unnoticed by Jessica.

"How's the pain?" she asked.

"It comes and it goes," Harvey responded. "No need to worry."

"You keep saying that, yet I keep worrying," Jessica said quietly.

"It's only been really bad that one time, Jessica."

"Alright. Just know that it's okay to take a day off should you need it."

He grinned. "What I need right now is one of those." He pointed at her glass.

She raised one of her eyebrows. "I'm not sure you deserve a drink. Aaron Rosenberg called me earlier. He said you were pretty obnoxious to him." She took another sip.

Harvey groaned. "Seriously? What did you tell him?"

"Well, I _apologized_ to him. And you know how much I hate apologizing for your behavior." She looked at him. "What happened with Rosenberg, Harvey?"

Harvey slightly shifted to the right to face her and also pulled his right leg onto the couch.

"He annoyed the hell out of me, sitting there in his power chair like some sort of Bond villain." He paused. "You know what? I'm actually jealous of him."

Jessica looked at him. "You're jealous because he's tetraplegic and you're not?"

"No, not that. But he gets to blame someone for his accident. I don't."


	6. Chapter 6

Sorry for keeping you waiting! I really appreciate the reviews and it's good to know that some of you like the story. This chapter again picks up immediately where the last left off and there's a bit of hurt but also some banter. You'll meet one more familiar face in this chapter and another lady we know very well from the show is mentioned and will show up in chapter 7 :) Thanks again for reading!

* * *

"Well, if you wanted to, you could blame her for upsetting you like that," Jessica replied.

Harvey put his glass down and then pushed his fists into the cushions to lift himself up for a few moments.

"Yeah. But I shouldn't have let her get to me like that. I should've known better. I should've been more careful."

Jessica sighed. "Harvey, you can't keep beating yourself up about it forever. She got to you, you were upset, you didn't pay any attention to the traffic, you got hurt. It could have happened to anybody; you need to let it go."

"I know." Harvey lowered himself down again and then leaned forward to pick up his glass from the coffee table. "Fuck," he exclaimed as a sharp pain shot through his lower back. He tried to lean back again but this only made it worse. "Goddamn it!" he yelled and slammed his fist on the couch.

"Take off your jacket," Jessica said calmly.

"Jessica, you don't need to-"

"Ssh."

Harvey took off his jacket and placed it on the arm of the couch.

"Lean forward and let your arms hang down." He did as he was told, wincing slightly.

Jessica started massaging his back, first gently, then with more force. "Tell me if it's uncomfortable," she said.

"No, it feels good," Harvey murmured. Jessica continued to massage, trying to loosen the muscles. After a couple of minutes, the pain had dulled and Harvey said, "It's better now." Jessica stopped massaging and gave his shoulder a squeeze. Harvey sat back up and said quietly, "I'm sorry, Jessica."

"What for? Being in pain?"

"Imposing on you."

"Harvey, we're family, okay? You're not imposing on me. But you need to take better care of yourself. When was the last time you had it checked out?"

"I dunno. Two years ago, I think."

Jessica tsked and shook her head.

"What? It's neuropathic pain, Jessica. It's not gonna go away. I don't need to see a doctor to tell me that."

"What you need to do is get it under control." She got up to pour herself another glass. "And I'm telling you this as the managing partner of this firm, you hear me?"

"I hear you."

"Good."

Harvey transferred back into his wheelchair and donned his jacket. He pushed towards the door when Jessica said, "Harvey." He swiftly turned around to face her.

"That one time I found you in your apartment? You scared the shit out of me. I don't wanna witness anything like this ever again, is that clear?"

He nodded, then turned around again and wheeled out of the door.

The next morning, a very excited but pretty deranged looking Mike stormed into Harvey's office.

"Jesus, Mike, you been here all night?"

"Yep! And lookie lookie what I found!" He triumphantly held up several pieces of paper.

"What's that?"

"The results of my research on previous accidents involving Matrixx bikes. I had a look at some internet forums on bikes and I found that there have been about a dozen people who reported crashing with a Matrixx bike in the last three years. In seven cases, people got hurt; not as severely as Rosenberg, usually broken bones, but still. But apparently none of these people sued; at least I couldn't find any court records."

"Interesting. What we now need to know is whether any of these people would have had a case and maybe didn't sue because they were offered compensation by Matrixx."

"Yeah."

"Well, go, then."

"Oh. Sure! You got it, Chief." Mike gathered the papers and turned to leave Harvey's office.

"Whoa, stop right there, champ!"

Mike turned around. "What?"

"One does not simply make an _Ironside_ reference in my office."

"You're quoting a _meme_?"

"No, I adapted a quote from _Lord of the Rings_."

"Isn't that what a meme is?"

"Back to the original topic: the Ironside reference."

"That wasn't…okay, yeah, it was an _Ironside_ reference."

"Seriously? _Ironside_?" Harvey shook his head.

Mike wasn't sure if Harvey was really mad or just screwing with him.

"Sorry, he was the first one I could think of."

"See and that's just _sad_ , Michael," Harvey said in a fake sad tone while shaking his head again. "Of all the kick-ass paraplegic characters that you _could_ have referenced you chose the one who was habitually dressed in pants that were way too short. Tsk." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Come on, name a _cool_ paraplegic character."

Mike scratched his head. "Er, Artie from _Glee_?"

Harvey rolled his eyes. "The task is to name someone cool, not just any random paraplegic."

"Hmm, let's see…Bran from _Game of Thrones_!"

"If you're serious about him I think I'll have to start calling you Hodor."

"Come on, he's kinda cool, he's got these visions and…"

Harvey held up his hand to stop Mike's rambling. "I refuse to be compared to Brandon Stark of Winterfell."

"Alright, I'm running out of options here…wait, I've got it! Jake Sully from _Avatar_!"

"Better, but still not acceptable."

"Why not?"

"Do I really have to spell it out for you?" Mike raised his eyebrows indicating 'yeah, you do.' Harvey sighed. "Okay. He hates being in a wheelchair so much that he makes this bullshit deal with Colonel Quarritch to 'get his legs back' and when that doesn't work out he decides to turn into a blue person for good! How's that cool?"

"Hmm, yeah, I suppose you're right."

"The representation of paraplegics in the media sucks big time, young padawan. Let's get back to work."

Mike nodded. He turned around and walked towards the door. When he reached the door, he said over his shoulder "I'll report to you again at lunch time, Professor X."

Harvey grinned. _Good boy._

Harvey shifted his position in his chair and then focused again at the task at hand: working out the details of a merger between one of his client's chain of hotels with a British chain. He was supposed to meet the attorney for the other side the following day and he'd just realized that he had no idea who he'd be dealing with.

"Donna, can you check who opposing council for that hotel merger is?" Harvey said into the intercom.

"Sure. Wait a second." He heard her scroll through the document. "It's a Dana Scott," she said. "Never come across her."

"Fuck."

"Is she gonna be a problem?"

"Maybe," Harvey responded.

Donna immediately noticed that something in Harvey's voice was off. She got up from her desk and walked into his office.

"You and this Dana Scott have a history together, right?" she asked.

Harvey looked up from his laptop. _How does she do this?_ "Yeah."

"And?"

"She's been based in London for some time," Harvey said, focusing on the screen again. After a pause, he added without looking up, "I don't think she knows."

There was no need to elaborate further; Donna understood what he meant. It was likely that Dana Scott had no idea about Harvey's injury, and Harvey dreaded being put in a situation where he would have to face her and be expected to explain it. But of course Harvey would never have said that. Still, Donna knew that any advice she could provide would be appreciated. She pulled up a chair and sat down in front of Harvey's desk.

"Just tell her the straight facts. Whatever you think she really needs to know. What you told me." She paused, then added, "If she has additional questions, well, she probably knows how to Google."

Harvey winced and looked at her. "Is that what you did?" he asked.

"Well, yes," Donna admitted. "I thought that was what you expected me to do since you didn't tell me terribly much."

"To be honest, I don't know what I expected. You were one of the first persons I had to tell – or rather one of the first persons I felt I _needed_ to tell. I probably could have handled it differently."

"You handled it very well given the circumstance, Harvey. You were clearly still hurting a lot at the time."

"Yeah."

Donna's eyes were saying 'You still are.' And she was right. And he would never have admitted that to her, too.

 _Five years earlier_

"Donna, I need to leave early today, so you can call it a day if you like," Harvey said into the intercom. It was the Thursday of her second week working for him and like every Thursday since leaving the hospital he had an appointment at 6:15 with his therapist, Dr. Agard. He still didn't know whether these appointments were really helping him but at least he usually felt quite good when he left…only to feel angry again the next morning. He wondered whether waking up and not being able to feel half of his body would ever feel normal. There were still days when it truly freaked him out; after vivid dreams of running barefoot along a beach (why was it always a beach?), the reality of not being able to jump out of bed hit him like a sucker punch.

"So, how was your week, Harvey?" Dr. Agard asked and took a sip of her tea. She had this refined British accent, which seemed to give her even more authority. He thought it was pretty sexy.

"Uh, fine," Harvey responded.

"How are things working out with your new secretary…what was her name again?"

"Donna. It's great, she's very attentive. And she already seems to know everything about everyone in the firm…that'll come in handy. Plus, she's funny."

"Sounds great," she said and then asked, "Have you told her yet?"

"No." He shifted in his wheelchair. In their first session she'd offered him to take a seat on the couch opposite her but he'd declined. It would've made him feel even more vulnerable. He now knew that it had actually been a test. "No, I haven't told her yet."

"Say it, Harvey," she said, taking another sip.

He rolled his eyes and sighed. "No, I haven't told her yet that I'm paralyzed," he said in a testy voice, drawing out every syllable of 'paralyzed.' Dr. Agard raised her eyebrows but didn't comment on his tone.

"Why not, Harvey?"

"I don't know."

"I think you do. I think you're scared."

Now he raised his eyebrows and said, "Aha?"

"Yes, you are scared. You are scared of several things."

"Oh, is that so?" He crossed his arms across his chest.

"Yes. First of all, you're scared of saying it out loud. And I can tell you why: you think that if you say it out loud, _then_ it becomes real. Because it still hasn't sunk in that this _is_ real and it's not going to change. Somewhere, deep down inside, you're still hoping to one day in the hopefully very near future wake up and find that your spinal cord has been miraculously mended over night."

"Bullshit."

She ignored his comment. "And you're also scared of something else. You're scared of the questions she might ask if you tell her that you're paralyzed. Embarrassing questions, like 'can you still get it up?', not that she would actually ask that…from what you're telling me she seems to be way too professional to ask something like that. But she might _think_ that question and you're scared that she would look at you differently." She paused. "But, Harvey, it is totally okay to have these fears." She smiled at him.

Harvey felt as if he was about to explode. His tie was suddenly way too tight and he felt the urge to slap her face, but at the same time he knew that she was only doing her job. And he had gone to her precisely because she had a reputation of being merciless. But this was more than he could stomach. He decided that he wouldn't go to see her again. Even though he knew she had a point.

The next day he called Donna in to his office.

"Okay, so, um ," he cleared his throat, "I just wanted to, um, address the elephant in the room and explain why I use a wheelchair." He had leaned forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees.

"You don't have to do that, I mean, it's not really any of my business," Donna replied.

"No, it's fine, I think you deserve to know." He paused and Donna waited patiently for him to continue, sensing that this wasn't exactly easy for Harvey.

"Six months ago I was in an accident and fractured two vertebrae in my back, T10 and 11. Due to the fracture, my spinal cord was severed completely, resulting in paralysis." He tried to say it as matter-of-factly as possible. "Which basically means that I can't feel or move anything below the level of my belly button." He paused briefly. "Now, you might see my legs twitch sometimes…these are muscle spams, it's not something I can control. If they get really bad, I might take medication, but I usually don't."

Donna took it all in. So it was indeed a permanent injury, as she had suspected. She had gotten to know Harvey well enough in these few days to know that he wouldn't appreciate any expressions of sympathy. So she simply said, "Okay. Thanks for explaining."

"Yeah." He didn't know what else to add. Donna looked as if there were dozens of questions that were running through her mind, so he said: "Um, anything else you wanna know?"

Donna looked down at her hands in her lap before facing him again. "Um…actually, yeah there's one thing that's been nagging me…are you ever in pain?"

The question threw Harvey off; he had expected a different one. But then he remembered that Donna was essentially Sherlock Holmes in a pencil skirt and heels; she must have had observed something that had led her to deduce that he did sometimes experience pain.

"Um, sometimes…but it's nothing you need to worry about. Anyway, I don't really like to talk about it. Let's get back to work now."

And that had been it. That had been the only real conversation on the topic they'd had in five years. Harvey had never again brought it up and it was clearly not Donna's place to do so. In the beginning he had reminded Donna to check whether a restaurant was accessible when making a reservation or telling an airline about his disability when booking a flight; not that Donna would have needed reminding. And even though Harvey and Donna had become friends over the years and confided in each other, they didn't normally talk about the topic of Harvey's paralysis and any inconveniences it might cause. There was the occasional comment here and there, but for the most past they both ignored the fact that Harvey got around in a wheelchair. Hence Donna didn't know how he felt about it, but she had always sensed that Harvey was still very much bothered by it, even though he was trying hard to make everyone believe that he was totally cool with it. But of course he couldn't fool Donna. However, she had also noticed that Mike's joining the team had had a positive effect on Harvey; he now seemed to be more willing to talk and even joke about it. And Donna sincerely hoped that Harvey's having to meet up with his ex Dana Scott wouldn't change that.


	7. Chapter 7

Okay, folks, another long chapter that took ages to write. Just a glimpse of Mike (but I'm hearing you: there'll be more bromance in upcoming chapters, promise!), some banter with Donna and Scottie, and Harvey butts heads with Louis. In the restroom. As they do. There are some graphic descriptions but, hey, Harvey needs to use the bathroom eventually, right?

* * *

Harvey spat out the rest of the toothpaste foam and wheeled into his spacious bedroom and into the walk-in, well, roll-in closet. He picked out a dark blue two-piece suit and matching socks, a white dress shirt and a silver grey tie. A lot of things had changed in his life after the accident, but one thing had remained the same: every morning he chose a suit to wear to work. Harvey had understood early on that if he wanted to be taken seriously as an attorney, he had to look the part. Many men hated suits and found them too constricting; Harvey, however, had always liked wearing them. After all, he'd always looked spectacular in a suit. Nowadays, he felt that his suits were some kind of armor; wearing a suit seemed to provide some protection from the unwanted stares he received every day. There was also another advantage: the suit accentuated some features of his body while concealing others. Harvey's upper body, which had always been well-toned, was now actually even more muscular than it had been before the accident. Wheeling around every day had turned out to be a pretty decent workout. And of course he still put in regular weight-lifting sessions and, about a year after the accident, his father had finally succeeded in persuading him to return to the boxing gym. Harvey still went there every fortnight or so, although he found it painful since everything there reminded him so much of his dad, who had been a member of the gym for more than thirty years.

Harvey's legs were a different story, however. Despite the spasms he sometimes experienced, he'd lost quite a bit of muscle mass in his legs and hence they now looked as if they didn't actually belong to his upper body. Harvey avoided looking at his undressed lower body in the mirror as much as possible. He started getting dressed, putting on an undershirt and the dress shirt. He then lifted up his right leg and placed the ankle on his left knee to put on his sock. He then repeated the process on the other side. Getting his pants on was trickier, but in the past five years he had perfected a process that worked for him. In rehab, he first had been taught to do it on the bed but he now he usually did in his chair. He had watched countless YouTube videos of people showing their dressing routines. He first put each leg into the respective pant leg and then pulled the pants up as far as possible. To get them over his butt, he scooted slightly forward and then put each thumb inside the pants while at the same time grabbing the push rims to pull himself and the pants up. The final touch was the tie. Harvey prided himself in his meticulous full Windsor knots; as a young associate he'd actually once spent a whole weekend perfecting the knot. When he was done, he put on the jacket and checked his reflection in the mirror. Overall, he did like what he saw. It had taken Harvey's suit guy and his tailor ages to figure out the best way to alter a suit jacket in such a way that Harvey would not only be comfortable in it when pushing the wheelchair but that he would also _look good_ while doing it. And that latter aspect was the real challenge because suits, especially suit jackets, were not usually designed to be worn mainly when sitting down. Now, all of Harvey's jackets were about an inch shorter than they would have needed to be had he been standing up, to avoid too much excess material getting bunched up in the back. He had even managed to convince Tom Ford, one of his clients, to design suits specifically for wheelchair users and he was looking forward to see what the designer had come up with.

While he was having coffee on his balcony, Harvey thought about the impending meeting with Scottie. He really dreaded seeing her again. Before, he'd always looked forward to it – the banter, and particularly, the casual sex – but now things were different. He knew that as soon as she'd lay eyes on him she'd have dozens of questions. Because everyone does. It's part of human nature to be curious. Whenever you meet someone who doesn't get around on their own two feet you probably want to know why that is. You want to know what that person's story is. Harvey himself wasn't any different. But now he himself had a story tell and he sure didn't feel like sharing it with any random person he met. He didn't feel very much inclined to explain the nature of his disability and the reason for it to every bartender or check-out lady. But he also knew that Scottie had a right to know since she wasn't any random person. They had been friends, they had been lovers; there was no way he could avoid answering the inevitable question of 'what happened to you?'

Harvey had Donna arrange a meeting with Scottie for the following Tuesday morning. Scottie was due to arrive in New York on Monday night; luckily fairly late so that Harvey would be spared from having to meet her for dinner that night. When Scottie arrived at Pearson Hardman, he told Donna to meet her at the reception and have her wait in conference room one – which gave him five more minutes to gather up his swag. He shifted in his chair, rearranged his feet on the footplate (even though they didn't really need rearranging), exhaled sharply and then wheeled out of his office. When Harvey got to the conference room, he found Scottie sitting on the window sill, her long legs crossed in her grey pencil skirt. She was looking out of the window at the New York skyline, sipping coffee from a to-go cup.

"Morning, Scottie," Harvey said.

"You're late, Specter," Scottie said, still looking out the window. "What took you-" Scottie turned to him and stopped. For a moment she looked as if she was about to drop her coffee.

"Harvey, please tell me you tore both your ACLs while playing basketball and this is only temporary."

Harvey shook his head. "Nope. Complete paraplegia due to traumatic spinal cord injury. That's not going away." He wheeled closer.

Scottie inhaled deeply. "How did you get hurt?" she asked quietly.

"Got shot by an angry client."

"Seriously?" She looked at him incredulously.

Harvey smiled. "No. But that would've been a much better story." He paused. "It was a stupid accident. But to share that story I need to have a couple of Macallans in me."

Scottie got up and placed her coffee on the conference table. "When did it happen?"

"About five years ago."

"FIVE years ago? Jesus, Harvey, why on earth didn't you tell me? It's not like we haven't been in touch during that time!"

Harvey shrugged. "Erm, did you want me to include a line in an email saying 'Hey, by the way, did I mention I was in an accident and now use a wheelchair?' Didn't feel right."

Scottie had walked towards him and was now standing right in front of him. She seemed unsure of what to say or do. She just stood there looking down at him, which annoyed him. At one point she seemed on the verge of touching him but then didn't, which annoyed him even more.

"Are you okay?" she finally asked.

"Yes", he said and it sounded a lot testier than he had intended. Scottie slightly raised her left eyebrow but didn't say anything. Harvey checked his watch.

"Since you're only in the city for two days, we'd better get started working on that merger."

"Um, right. Lemme just use the restroom real quick."

Harvey nodded. "Alright."

When Scottie stepped out of the bathroom stall, Donna was standing at the sink, fixing her lipstick.

"Oh, hey," Scottie said and walked to the sink next to Donna. Donna noticed that Scottie looked slightly shaken. She gave her a smile in the mirror and asked, "Is everything okay?"

"Uh, yeah." She sighed and leaned against the sink. "Actually, I don't know. I don't know what to think. A part of me feels sorry for Harvey and at the same time I feel bad for feeling sorry because I know Harvey would hate that. And I'm angry at him for not telling me. And I feel stupid because I have no idea how to deal with him now, even though I've known him for ages and we've had s-," she stopped and ran a hand through her hair. Donna smiled at her again.

"Ms. Scott, I have no idea what Harvey was like before he got hurt. I only started working for him about six months after the accident. But what I _can_ tell you is that he's an arrogant self-absorbed jerk-"

Scottie laughed. "Oh, yeah!"

"-who's at the same time extremely loyal to his friends and the people he loves."

Scottie nodded.

"He's also one of the funniest people I know." Donna paused and then added, "But his Connery impersonation is truly horrible…with a capital H."

Scottie laughed again. "Oh God, you're right, he really shouldn't do Connery." She looked at Donna. "From what you're telling me it seems as if the Harvey _you_ know is just like the Harvey _I_ know."

"Of course, he might have changed in a way…I mean I've heard Jessica say that Harvey is less cocky now than he used to be, but, truth be told, I find it very hard to imagine that Harvey could possibly have been even cockier."

"So, any advice on how to deal with him?"

"Well, I suppose you have a pretty good idea on how to _do_ deals with him. If you want my advice on dealing with him on a personal level, that is simple: remember, he's still your friend. He has certain physical impairments now but these are his to worry about, not yours."

Scottie considered this. She was biting on her lower lip before she finally said: "The thing is, Harvey and I used to have a, well, let's say _unusual_ way of doing deals together and I… uh ... I dunno if we'll still be able to do deals like that."

Donna raised an eyebrow. _Okaaay._ "Well, I don't know how _exactly_ you guys used to do your deals but I'd say standing up against a wall is out of the question." She gave Scottie another smile and walked out of the restroom.

Scottie took way too long to return and Harvey suspected that she must've bumped into his secretary, who probably 'totally accidentally' had happened to need the restroom at exactly the same time. His suspicions were confirmed when he saw that Donna wasn't at her desk. When Scottie finally returned to the conference room he told her to go over the suggestions for the merger that he had worked out with his client while he went to 'check on something urgent with Donna.'

He pushed along the corridor towards Donna's cubicle. Before he could say anything, she got up and whispered rather loudly, "You and Scottie have sex while doing deals together?"

"Keep your voice down, will you? Not _while_ doing deals, after we do deals. Or before. Depends on the kind of deal." He stopped. "Well, _depended_ on the deal. I really doubt that sex is still part of the procedure."

"Why?"

"Why? Oh, come on, Donna!" He drummed on his push rims as if to emphasize his point.

She cocked her head. "You're assuming that she wouldn't want to have sex with you because you use a wheelchair now?"

Harvey felt himself blushing. _I can't believe we're having this conversation_. Then he noticed that red blotches had appeared on Donna's neck; a tell-tale sign that she was embarrassed, too.

"I don't need to assume, I know. Not many women fall for a guy in a chair."

He had seen the looks that women gave him. They still looked at him the way they had before he got hurt – when they were unsuspecting of the chair. But once they noticed it, the looks usually changed, from longing into a combination of disappointment and pity. He recalled one particular incident when he had been having dinner in a restaurant with a client. A woman a few tables over had been kind of flirting with him throughout the meal. But when his client had gotten up to leave and Harvey had pushed away from the table, her eyes had widened and she had muttered something that had looked suspiciously like 'Fuck.' Over the years, he had experienced instances like this dozens of times. He had even heard women say things such as 'What a waste!' when passing them in the street. They probably believed that he was no longer physically able to have sex, and he couldn't blame them – this was exactly what he had first thought when he had realized that certain parts of his body were no longer working like they used to. But then his doctor had been quick to inform him that there were many different ways of having sex and that he, together with the right partner, would probably be able to find a way that suited both his and his partner's needs; they would just have to get a little creative. Of course, the right partner was the problem. Harvey had spent years of having casual sex with women; some had been one-night stands, some – like Scottie – had been women he met from time to time. But these days were surely over; the few times he had ended up in a bedroom with a woman he hardly knew after his accident had been fairly disappointing. He had managed to satisfy the women, sure thing; he didn't need an erect penis to be able to do that. But _he_ hadn't been satisfied. He suspected that it had had to do with the fact that he hadn't cared about the women enough and they hadn't cared enough about him to make an effort. So he had more or less sworn off the casual sex.

"Harvey."

He looked up to see Scottie standing in front of Donna's cubicle, holding the folder with his client's demands for the merger.

"I'm sorry, but this," she held up the folder, "is a whole lotta bullshit! You better move your ass back into that conference room, I only have until tomorrow evening to work out this damn merger."

"Alright. After you, Scottie."

She raised an eyebrow. "You just wanna stare at my ass."

"You know me so well. And, you know what? I now happen to have the perfect vantage point for that." He grinned at her. Scottie shook her head and turned around to walk back to the conference room.

Six hours later they still hadn't gotten any closer to coming to an agreement on the merger.

"Your client is trying to force my client out of the company, there's no way she's gonna agree to this," Scottie said.

"What are you talking about? Have you actually read any of this?"

"Of course I have! Look at section 4.3."

At this moment, Harvey's phone dinged twice. Without bothering to check it, Harvey said, "Scottie, let's take a short break. I need to use the bathroom."

Scottie nodded. "Alright. I'll get more coffee."

Harvey pushed back from the table, then swiftly turned the chair around and left the room.

"Hey, Harvey! You got a minute?" Mike came running towards him.

"Not now, Mike."

"Please, it's really urgent. I've been on the phone with-"

Harvey held up a hand. "Mike, seriously, not now. I really need to go pee. I've had about a gallon of coffee and if you don't wanna witness me wet myself right here in the corridor, you let me use the bathroom first." He pushed past Mike towards the restrooms.

"Drama queen," Mike muttered.

"I wish," Harvey called back over his shoulder.

It had happened before. In the lobby, right in front of the reception desk, just as Harvey and Jessica were about to welcome important new clients to the firm. It had been the single most embarrassing experience for Harvey; even though he didn't think that the clients had actually noticed…but Jessica had, as well as one of the receptionists. He brushed the thought aside. It wasn't likely to happen again; he usually monitored his fluid intake, plus, he had reminders set on his phone for regularly scheduled bathroom breaks throughout the day. But now that regularly scheduled pee was somewhat overdue and he had had a lot more coffee than usual. He wheeled into the men's restroom but was surprised to find that the one accessible stall was occupied…probably by someone who didn't really need the extra space. He noticed a twitching of his lower abdominal muscles, which was a clear signal that an emptying of the bladder was imminent. He banged against the door of the stall. "Hey, are you done in there? I really need to pee!"

"Just one second!" a familiar voice responded.

"Louis? What the fuck?"

"I'll be right out!"

"LOUIS, GET OUTTA THERE NOW!" The abdominal spasms were getting worse and when Louis finally opened the door, Harvey brushed past him and transferred to the toilet seat as fast as he possibly could. He grabbed the grab bar with his right hand to lift himself up and used his left hand to yank down his pants and boxers. Just as he lowered himself down on the seat again, his bladder couldn't hold its contents any longer.

"Harvey, I'm sorry…I didn't realize…"

Harvey looked up to see Louis standing in front of the stall; in his rush to get inside he hadn't remembered to close the door.

"Fuck you, Louis."

He grabbed the little pouch that was attached to the underside of the seat of his chair and pulled out a catheter and a pack of antibacterial wipes. He looked at Louis.

"Do you mind?"

Louis turned around but didn't leave. Harvey shook his head in disbelief. He wiped his hands clean, pulled out the catheter from the its packaging and inserted it into his penis. Louis hadn't moved and still stood there, his back turned at Harvey; he seemed bolted to the spot.

"I had no idea, Harvey," he finally said quietly without turning around.

"About what, Louis? That I might actually _need_ the extra space and the grab bars? That my bladder is paralyzed, too, and I can't just hold the pee in? Shouldn't that be obvious?" He paused, then added, "Yeah, well, maybe it isn't. But now you know once and for all." Harvey had finished and threw the catheter into the bin next to the toilet. He then pulled himself up again using the grab bar to pull up his pants and then transferred back to his chair. He wheeled to the sink, washed his hands and then rolled towards Louis and positioned himself right in front of him.

"Louis, I don't give a fuck about what you were doing in there. And I don't wanna hear any of your lame apologies. You don't need an accessible stall; I do. So stay the fuck out of it." He turned around and wheeled out of the restroom.


End file.
